His One Moment of Compassion
by emeraldeyezcu
Summary: Is it possible for Voldemort to have even one instant of compassion? Which Weasely enters his quarters? Well, just read and you'll find out! R & R please! One shot.


__

__

_I hope you enjoy this! I may use this for a prologe for another story sometime. Review please! I know it's short....but I just couldn't make it any longer, I hope you like it anyway!_

**

* * *

******

****

****

****

**His One Moment of Compassion**

Tom Riddle, or Voldemort, as he now titled himself these days, stood alone in his chamber, waiting for his followers, his Death Eaters, the evil men and women that did his bidding, to come back with some more half breeds, or Muggles, or wizards, whatever it was today. He would simply try to get some information out of them, if there was any, and then dispose of them, another sign to the wizarding world that he would conquer them all very soon.  
  
His twisted, white, left hand grasped his sleek wand which had taken too many lives to even attempt to count. Remembering his kills, he smiled wickedly, which turned into a whistful cackle that was deep in his throat. Not once, in his killing had he looked into the faces of his victoms to show mercy. To him, they were ugly, disgusting mice that needed to be squashed. In his opinion, the world should be all prue blooded, not a single soul should have even the smallest amount of muggle in it. And the funny thing was, if he wanted his world like that, he wouldn't be in it, as his father had been a muggle. Dumbledore often wondered, if perhaps Tom's father had never left him, had stood by him even though he was different, that maybe, just maybe, Tom Riddle wouldn't have been Voldemort today, but maybe even fight on our side, as an auror maybe. But, alas, that we will never know. All we do know is that Lord Voldemort was evil and needed to be eliminated. So, how is it possible that in one instant, he felt sorry for what he had done to so many people? That he almost spared a life out of what was left that was good in his heart? Well, let me tell you the story of his one moment of compassion.  
  
The story has already begun, you see. The lord was standing in his chambers, waiting for his next victoms, thinking about all the young and old men and women he had killed. He was enjoying his time waiting, when what he was waiting for knocked it's heavy hand on the door.  
  
"Bella, is that you?"  
  
A low grunt could be heard from behind the door.  
  
"Bring them in....."  
  
And in came Bellatrix Lestrange, Marcus Flint, and a bloke who prefered to be called his surname, Nott. Bellatrix held onto a young red headed girl, who looked to be about six. Bellatrix was having wonderful fun digging her nails into the poor, frightened girl. Flint and Nott levitated in a woman with brown hair and a red haired man, they were both bonded tight with ropes that wouldn't tear without a spell. This was Percy Weasley, his wife Penelope, and his young daughter Rose. They had been broughten in for questioning....  
  
Lord Voldemort smiled with glee, which was a rare sight to be seen.

Voldemort strode in front of them.  
  
"Leave me."  
  
Bellatrix, Flint, and Nott bowed and then walked out, shutting the door behind them.  
  
"Well, well, well...."  
  
With a wave of his wand Percy and his wife were untied. Their daughter, Rose, scrambled for them, tears falling freely.  
  
"Mummy! Daddy!"  
  
And the young girl began to cry.  
  
"Shut her up or she'll be tossed out to my friends behind the door....I'm sure they'll enjoy a new person to test the unforgivables on..."  
  
His lips curled into an evil smirk. Rose stopped crying, she would definatly be Gryffindor bound.  
  
"Percy Weasley...a direct connection to Mr.Potter....how conveinant for me....."  
  
He looked at the females in distaste.  
  
"I don't think I'll be needing them.."  
  
He lifted his wand in the air, he had a relaxed look, as if this kill ment nothing to him. As if it was just another swing of his wand and blast of green light.  
  
"Stop! Please! Just, let them go!! Take me and let them be!"  
  
Percy cried into his hands. He begged Lord Voldemort, begged at his feet and Voldemort spat on him.  
  
"Pathetic."  
  
Yet he put his wand down.  
  
"I'll let them go...on one condition...."  
  
"Anything."  
  
Voldemort smirked, his one condition brewing in in his mind, excitment bubbling on the surface. But the Lord Voldemort never showed excitment, so he spoke to Percy.  
  
"Join my side, betray your little leader you love so much. Disapoint Dumbledore. Help me get to Harry Potter."

Percy flinched, but as Voldemort raised his wand, he stopped him with his words.

"Yes...my lord."

And he bowed his head. Percy always was more like the follower, not the leader.

"Excellent."

Then he added, "And if you go to Dumbledore, I will know, and they will pay for your mistake. You may go home."

As Percy Weasley left with his family, the slow feeling of guilt started to peak through into Voldemort, but he brushed it away like it was an annoying horse fly. He couldn't let any human thoughts into his head. He hadn't killed the two females because it worked for him, not because he cared. That's what he kept telling himself, but we will never really no the truth, will we?

That ends our story, for now. What will happen with Percy? I shall leave that to your imagination.

* * *


End file.
